To Snare a Falcon and Sting a Beast
by Angainawen of Ithilien
Summary: When a party goes flat and a massacre is found, can an Elven maiden turn to her best friend, or a eccentric young mortal?
1. Relations

{Author's Note: This is one of my major stories, though it'll be awhile before I have all of it down. Hopefully it'll be less than 50 chapters. First a little background.  
  
This story takes places F.A. 25 in Ithilien. Some of it is out-there, the idea of Legolas having a kid.. But I truly love these characters, especially Elboron. Elboron, if you've had any hard-core interest in Faramir, is his only child mentioned ever in Tolkien's writings. I've added in another sibling for him, but he is the only son. Elboron at this state is 23 years old, living on his own right outside his parent's manor, though visits everyday. He grew up in Emyn Arnen and is exactly like his father in habits and outlook. He's tall, around 6'4", and is very thin. He has inherited the blue eyes from his mother and his sienna hair from his seafaring kin.  
  
Mithfeniel is the daughter of Legolas and is around 500 years old. She's Half-Elven, yes some fans will hit me for that, and is looked down upon by most of the Elven community. Her closest friend, a half-Haradric maiden from the north, lives with her and helps her get through all the sorrow she goes through. She's slightly short for an Elf, 6'2", and has the interesting talent of changing her eye-color. Her hair is extremely long, going down to her calves, and is pure gold, like Galadriel's.  
  
Elfwine is the opposite of Elboron in build and attitude. He's a warrior, patrolling the Mark for his father constantly and keeping Rohan safe. He adores his cousin Nandelle, though has hated her brother since childhood. The two want to rip each other's throats out and have not seen each other in three years. He is tall for the Rohirrim, 6'1", and more vertically built than his father, Éomer.  
  
Again this story is huge for me, completely huge. I've been writing and rewriting it all summer and I hope it has some worth. Please enjoy and review! I'd love to know where I might need to improve.  
  
- Angainawen}  
  
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Even in Ithilien winter is cold; even without snow wind can still chill bone. And so Elboron sat, his cloak wrapped around him, and tried very hard to concentrate on his book. It was exactly the middle of winter, and though Ithilien was one of the warmest regions in Gondor, there still was frost at daybreak. Elboron, ironically, was born around this time, in late winter; but never could he get used to icy breath that Manwë sent to the Southern Wood.  
  
After some tossing, grumbling, and adjusting of his cloak, the young man set down his book and with the temper of Rohan cried out, "You win! You hear me, Wind Lord! You win! I'll go inside now!"  
  
He stood up, brushed his dark-brown, wavy hair out of his eyes, and grabbed his tomes. He sighed, pulled up his emerald-colored hood, and started to walk out of the courtyard of his parent's manor.  
  
At 23, he was heir to both titles of his father, Prince Faramir. He hated the idea though; having grown up watching his father bounce back and forth from Minas Tirith to Emyn Arnen. In recent years, Elboron had started to take some of the responsibilities himself, helping his father with bookkeeping, passing judgment, and foreign policy. He had even been to council in his father's stead once or twice; though the King and Queen of Gondor weren't too fond of him.  
  
As he reached the northern gate, which lead to Henneth Annûn but before that his personal cabin, he heard the all too familiar sound of a galloping horse and froze. His heart started to race, going back to his childhood fear of sharp, quick hooves. Ever since he was young, five to be exact, he began to sweat, twitch, at any sign of a equine steed. Which again was ironic, for he was half Rohirric, and both his mother and sister loved to ride. It was always funny for the 14 year old girl to ask him to hold her horse while she talked to some suitor she was flirting with.  
  
Elboron flinched as a bray was heard and mahogany skinned stallion bounded in with two riders, both with golden hair. He again froze as the beast stopped right in front of him and the taller rider dismounted.  
  
The man wore a tall, crested helm and had his long golden mane lie carelessly upon his shoulders. He cocked his head slightly at Elboron then turned to his companion, "I never forget a face, Nandelle, yet this cannot be your brother."  
  
Elboron pursed his lips; he knew this rider all too well. Unfortunately, this was his cousin, Elfwine Captain of the Riddermark and heir to the throne of Rohan.  
  
"Well it has to be, hasn't it?" Elboron said with utter control. "Who else around here has blue eyes?" The feud between the two men was renowned. Ever since they were children and Elboron visited the Golden Hall with his mother they were discreet enemies.  
  
Nandelle, his blonde spunky sister, parted the two. "Elfwine, Elboron, please. We just got here and we both have messages for our parents, ok?" She looked at her brother tensely. Don't screw this up, she thought.  
  
Elboron nodded and stepped aside. "Father's left for council again. You have to go to mother, or me," he smiled sourly and his rival's jaw clenched. "But I have work to do, of course. So I can't talk. Though if you really need me, Nandelle, you know where I'll be." He then gave his sister a nod of respect, deliberately ignored his cousin, and walked off to his home.  
  
"What's his problem?" Elfwine asked as the brunette stamped out of earshot. "He's alittle hot-headed today, eh?"  
  
Nandelle sighed, shaking her head, "It's that time of year, cousin. Everyone around here is tense. Though you weren't helping." She too looked sour. "Why can't you two get along?" She then stomped off as well, leaving her cousin bewildered.  
  
**************************************  
  
Elfwine wasn't the only one confused at the moment. A few miles north two ladies stared at a statue one of them had just carved.  
  
"What exactly is it?" said the first with long golden hair, cocking her head. "I can't really tell, Shango."  
  
The other, with hair as black as night, responded: "I thought it would look like two lovers kissing, but it looks more like one is trying to wring the other's neck. I can't sculpt, can I?"  
  
"No, I think we both should give up on that hobby. I cracked mine in half after the first blow."  
  
Shango laughed. "Mithy, you're worse than I am! Come on, you said you'd meet Maiwë and have lunch with him. You don't want to keep your future husband waiting."  
  
Mithy sighed and slowly began to walk into the courtyard. "I know, I have to take him to that feast tonight too."  
  
The black-hair girl nodded. "I'm sorry, you really should tell your father."  
  
"Like he'd listen," Mithy sat down on a bench. "Besides, he's probably at Minas Tirith by now."  
  
Shango nodded, again. "Yeah. Oh! He moved up the date for the wedding. Maiwë doesn't want to wait for Spring."  
  
"What!" The other jumped up off the bench. "There's no way I'm gonna stand for this! How dare they change the date without consulting me!"  
  
"It's just what I heard, ok? Mithy, calm down."  
  
"How can I calm down when everyone around me wants to completely control my life!"  
  
"*I* don't want to control your life, Mithy. So it's not everyone."  
  
"Stop contradicting me!"  
  
Mithy stormed off. As she passed a couple she heard them whispering, "There goes Mithfeniel, the bastard. Why does she pollute us with her presence?"  
  
Mithy whipped around and stared right at them, "Say that to my face, Yrch!"  
  
The owner of the voice stood up. "I will. Mithfeniel, you have no right to be called a Greenleaf! Go back to the hole where your filthy mother lived!"  
  
Mithy gritted her teeth. "You shouldn't judge others of filthiness, Slime- breath!"  
  
The other scoffed. "How dare you! You uncultured, rash, ATANI!!!!"  
  
Mithy then balled her hand into a fist, swung it back to punch, and felt a firm hand grip her arm. "Mithy, stop!"  
  
She turned her head and looked at her father, a disciplined look on his face. He was the last person on earth she wanted to see. "Why should I?"  
  
"Because, Mithy, if you strike back, it will only prove her right. I don't care what she called you, it is only words, but punching someone is a much different and unladylike matter."  
  
"What if I don't want to be a lady?" She sneered at him.  
  
"You're a lady whether you like it or not," She hated it when he looked at her in that calm, strict manner. It drove her crazy.  
  
"So? She disgraced me, my mother, *and* you!"  
  
"I deserve that disgrace. You don't, though proving her right doesn't help you."  
  
"Just leave me alone! Go off to that stupid meeting with Elessar!" She ran off, tears streaming, with Shango at her heels.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Next chapter will be coming as soon as I can write it all. Please, please tell where I can improve and where I'm doing good. And tell me who you like so far. Namaarie,  
  
-Angainawen 


	2. The Alignment of Strings

{Author's Note: I forgot on last chapter for disclaimers, so I'm putting them here. I do not own Lord of the Rings, though I have added to that universe. I do not own Faramir, Éowyn, Legolas, or Aragorn. I do not own the names for Elboron, Eldarion (who will come later), or Elfwine, but I have created they're personalities. I do own Shango, Nandelle, Haleth, Mithy, Maiwë, Juniper, and Acantha (these two also will come with time). I warn you that Greek mythology has inspired me to some extent, so be slightly warned. It won't come up yet, but it will later on. I am not making any money off of this, so DON'T SUE!!!!  
  
Now, real business. Ok, those who have reviewed I thank them. Yes, I have noticed a lot of blonde, burly Elboron's in fanfiction. This is one of the reasons I wrote the this story. But he does have some of his mother's blood in him, as you will soon see. His eyes are Rohirric blue, for one. But he is the "nerd" in this story, a complete romanticist as well, he-he. Half of this story is about him coming to terms with his life and what path he is to follow. Again, I love this character dearly, truly, and I truly hope you enjoy. By the way, there is some slight sexual references in this chapter. Please, don't be offended.  
  
-Angainawen}  
  
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Nandelle walked sadly up the wooded path that led to her brother's house. In this sorrowed moment, she remembered why he was out here, all alone. For three years he stayed away from his home, his family. He built the cabin himself, and designed it pretty well. But Elboron was always one who could draw what he wished and make it perfect. He was a true artist, envisioning what he wanted and capturing it flawlessly. But these traits were just hobbies of his, having no real use, until one night.  
  
It was right after his sister's funeral, where they all watched the pyre burn and said goodbye to Haleth, she was only 19. Nandelle had always looked up to her sister, and knew her brother admired the middle child completely too. Her death was sudden, during a journey out in the woods. Elboron was only a year older than her, so he couldn't take that she was gone. In the study, out of nowhere, Elboron lashed out at all of them, saying that if it wasn't for how they treated her, she wouldn't have killed herself.  
  
"Why do you say that?" their father had calmly asked, knowing this all was from grief. She remembered how weary and old he had looked, and remembered that the sorrows of that day still shown on his face, his hair graying more and his face looking more worried everyday.  
  
"Because all of us made her life unbearable!" Tears had filled everyone's eyes, though his threatened to fall. He pointed at their mother accusingly. "If you hadn't pushed her constantly to be a ranger, or the warrior I wasn't, she wouldn't have been there in the first place! You put so much pressure on her, molding her into the perfect daughter, the perfect you! Well she wasn't you! She was different! You hear me!  
  
"And you," he darted to Nandelle, who was 11 at the time. "You always had to be in the way, never giving her a moments peace! Always wanting to join her, or tattling on her constantly! Nandelle! Couldn't you have been kind! Considerate on how she felt about her pressures, cleaning up the room you shared instead of making her do it all! No! You had to be the selfish brat you always were! You pathetic, attention-seeking, frivolous--- --"  
  
"Elboron!" their father's voice barked, his sea-grey eyes raging. "Of all the ones to accuse, you pick your youngest sister, who had nothing to do with it! Very noble of you, son!"  
  
"Oh you are not the one to talk, father," Elboron raved. "You had as much, maybe even more, blame than all of us! It was you, wasn't it, that constantly questioned her actions, always reprimanding her ability to fight, arguing with her over what was right and wrong! You turned into the father you hated, didn't you? Loving the eldest and forgetting the younger!"  
  
Faramir stood up and his wife put a hand on his shoulder. Elboron had touched a very deep wound, and he knew it. The two stared at each other, eyes slightly narrowed. Finally, the lord of Ithilien spoke: "Elboron, are you part of this family?"  
  
"That's depends." the younger gritted.  
  
"Depends? Well my son, it seems you don't realize what you still have. Maybe we should take that away from you now as well. Then maybe you might appreciate us better."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm kicking you out," the father said calmly, though there was the slightest tension in the way he tilted his head. Nandelle vividly recalled how white her brother looked, yet he nodded and accepted his punishment. He was allowed to stop by the manor any time he wished or spend spells with his family, but he wasn't allowed to sleep there or eat. He'd have to make it on his own, till he realized what his family did for him.  
  
Nandelle sighed again and knocked on her brother's small cabin door. She wished with all her heart that he would see how they needed him, how she needed him. There was no reply and she began to doubt whether he was home. Oh, 'Bron! Where are you, she thought.  
  
"Over here," he came out silently from a clump of trees carrying a snared rabbit. "You needed me, Nandelle?"  
  
The maiden nodded, "I need to talk to you. I trust you and your hut's quiet."  
  
The young man agreed and unlocked the door for them. A perfect gentleman, he let her go in first. He closed the door behind him, put down the hare, and plopped onto his small bed. "What's wrong, Sis?"  
  
Nandelle looked off, her expression grey like the winter sky, "I don't want to be wed yet, Elboron."  
  
The young man looked at the ground, he had heard these thoughts before. "Then don't marry. Fourteen is young for marriage."  
  
"Yet if I do, then the favors and courting will stop. Oh Elboron! You aren't prized like I am! You aren't the daughter of a Shieldmaiden and a Prince! They all want Father's wealth and respect, that's all. And maybe my beauty. No wonder Haleth couldn't take it!"  
  
"You know very well that wasn't the reason she did it, Nandelle. Don't act like it is." Elboron's mood completely darkened and he tensed, his voice deepening.  
  
"I'm sorry, Toron. I didn't mean that. But still, what am I to do?"  
  
"Tell them you aren't interested."  
  
"What if that doesn't work?"  
  
"Tell me who they are and I'll look into their tax records."  
  
Nandelle laughed, "Ok, though I wouldn't trust you upset with another's tax records. You might devise some way to 'edit' them."  
  
Elboron smiled, "You have a point there, Selli." He looked out his cabin window, his thoughts on Haleth. Selli was always what he called her when they were young. Why did he call Nandelle that? Nandelle was always Runt, she was the youngest. How could he dishonor Haleth that way?  
  
Seeing his grave distress, Nandelle got up and sighed loudly, "Well, I have to help Mother for tonight. You are coming right? It is the Winter Solstice and we'd love to have you there."  
  
The young man sighed in his turn and frowned slightly. He wasn't one for parties or celebrations; they had no purpose to him. What was the point if no matter what you were alone? No one wanted to converse with him except his family, and lately he didn't wish to see them either. Parties only reminded him of what he had lost and those who could not be there.  
  
"Fine, Nandelle," he said. "I'll go tonight."  
  
****************************  
  
Mithy cried in her room for an hour or so, telling Shango to "go away and let her die." So when it was time for her fiancé to meet with her, he sought her out. Mithy's tears immediately stopped when Maiwë entered her room. "Mithy, love?" His grey eyes were earnest and his voice soft and kind.  
  
Mithfeniel looked up at the elf she was to marry and weakly smiled. He was around 2,000 years and looked in his twenties with light blonde hair that reached to his chest like any elf. Mithy had known him all her life and thought him a true friend yet she didn't love him. He was too old for her, 1,500 years spanned between them, and he didn't understand. But then again no one did.  
  
"Yes, Maiwë?"  
  
"Weren't we going to have lunch together?" He sat upon her soft bed and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I missed your company this morning."  
  
"I did too," Mithy lied. She couldn't break his heart, and he was nice to her.  
  
The lad sighed and looked off, "I'm sorry, dearest."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I can't go to the party tonight, love. I have to take over for Elladan on his watch. He went with your father to Minas Tirith."  
  
The maiden saddened. She had wanted to go see the lights and splendor of the White Lady's manor. Plus it was a chance for her to escape the pressures of her home. She was more at home with mortals, her mother's kin. "Oh."  
  
"You can go without me. I know how much you wanted to go."  
  
Mithy's heart lifted slightly, though she said seriously, "But you won't be there."  
  
"Mithy, you should go. I'll be fine here."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The maiden smiled for once and lightly kissed his cheek, "Thank you, Maiwë. You are so kind."  
  
"Your welcome, love," Again warmth held itself in his face and they both went off, hand-in-hand, to lunch.  
  
*********************  
  
At dusk the whole city of Emyn Arnen was celebrating the winter solstice. Couples were dancing, children were playing tag before they were sent to their beds, groups talking, nothing unusual. But there was one person who was alone. Sitting in a corner, sketching, sat Elboron. He didn't want to be there, who needs social activity? Out of nowhere Elfwine pulled up a chair.  
  
"Why aren't you dancing like everyone else?" said Elfwine.  
  
"Why do you care?" retorted Elboron.  
  
"I'm just curious why someone like you isn't enjoying himself tonight."  
  
"Curiosity killed the Took, as we say." He tucked away his sketch pad. "What do you want?"  
  
"Nothing, just someone to talk to."  
  
"And you want the company of the same person who crashed your horse at age 5?"  
  
"For once, yes. So, why are you bored, cousin? There's a number of fine women around."  
  
"Most of those women know me as Bookworm, and they don't like him."  
  
"Even those two?" He pointed to Mithy and Shango, who were engrossed in conversation. "They've been shooting glances at you for the past ten minutes. They seem interested."  
  
"So you're saying that I should talk to them. What if I like being alone?"  
  
"If you don't make a move, they'll think you're gay."  
  
"What's wrong with that?"  
  
"I'll ignore what you just said, if you go and ask one of them to dance. I'll ask the other out with you, if you're so nervous about it!"  
  
"Nervous? You think I'm scared to talk to girls?" He stood up. "Come on! Which one do you want? The blonde?"  
  
"Sure, they're both hot so it doesn't matter."  
  
"Good."  
  
The two walked over to the girls and they immediately stopped talking. Elfwine spoke first, and to Mithy.  
  
"Hey, do I know you? You look familiar."  
  
"Hi," Mithy gave him an obnoxious smile. "Is that the best pick-up line you've got? No, I don't know you. Let's get down to the chase. No, I won't dance with you."  
  
"But I will," said Shango. Mithy stepped on her foot. "Ow! That was mean! I AM dancing with him now!" She got up and took Elfwine's hand, leaving the other two alone.  
  
They stood there not trying to start a conversation. After what seemed like ages, Elboron was the first to break the ice.  
  
"Hi," He said very leisurely. "He's a git, isn't he?"  
  
"He related to you?"  
  
"Yeah," he laughed. "How'd you know?"  
  
"The eyes."  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, they're a dead-give-away."  
  
"I like them."  
  
"Oh. Ummm. Thanks."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Boo- I mean Elboron. Yours?"  
  
"Fenny, call me Fenny," she replied looking desperately for the other two. "I'll see you some time." With that she left.  
  
"Ok," he said more to himself. As she left his sight he got up and walked to his quarters, looking very glum again.  
  
***********************  
  
Mithy and Shango had stood in the edge of the courtyard trying very hard not to draw attention to themselves before the boys talked to them. At least that was what Mithy thought. In truth, Shango was trying very hard to pick up what she'd refer to as "good ass". Lucky for both, Mithy caught none of her friend's suggestive poses. In the middle of their conversation, though, Shango blurted out, "Now that guy has to be a ten. And I haven't used him either."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Mithy had a tendency of not getting Shango's slang.  
  
"Him," she cocked her head to a somewhat burly man when long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Elfwine. "He's new, and look at how he's standing. He's just asking for me to f*** him!"  
  
"You're not seriously thinking about sex again, are you?" Mithy was so naïve!  
  
Shango rolled her eyes and sat in a position that clearly would make a guy, preferably the ten, notice her. "Mithy, aren't I always thinking about sex? No, don't look at him! You can't look interested! You're engaged! Here, just talk to me ok?"  
  
"How do you know he's trying to get your eye?"  
  
"Well, it's how he's standing. He's angled so that he could glance at me and still talk to those other guys. He's slick, and such a whore-hunter! By his manhood, those clothes are asking for sex!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's the middle of winter, right? Then why is he wearing short-sleeved, dark purple tunic? And that's all he's wearing, besides some leggings, not even a cape! And look at where his belt buckle lies.." She trailed off, and gave a mischievous laugh.  
  
"You're sick. And I don't believe that what a guy wears says whether or not he's looking for action."  
  
"Oh really? Point to any guy in the courtyard and I'll tell you whether or not he expects some girl to take his room tonight."  
  
"Fine, how about that one?" Mithy lays her eyes on the first guy she sees, Elboron.  
  
Shango laughed, "Are you serious? You picked him? Mithy, he's gay!"  
  
"What? How?"  
  
"He's wearing a low cut shirt, light blue, and never hangs out with girls! He's no way straight, Mithy! There's no doubt!"  
  
"Then why is he only looking at the ladies as he draws?"  
  
"He likes their gowns and wishes he could wear one. And how do you know that he's been drawing only women?"  
  
"You're not the only one looking at guys," she said, giving off a wry smile. "He's got a handsome face."  
  
"He's gay! Besides, Maiwë is to be your husband."  
  
"Oh don't say that! I know! It's just, he's kinda cute, our artist over there."  
  
"Well, a lot of cute artists are gay!"  
  
"You just want him for yourself!"  
  
"Whatever! He's way too skinny for my taste anyway."  
  
"Right, and the brute is so much better."  
  
"O Elbereth! He's talking to the gay guy! Oh no!"  
  
Mithy laughed, "Look who's gay now!"  
  
"He isn't gay. He's straight, he has to be. And he's mine tonight! Oh f***! They're looking at us!"  
  
"What!" A look of panic crossed Mithy's face.  
  
"And your 'creative' one isn't interested."  
  
"Just because he's not interested, it doesn't mean he's gay!"  
  
"We'll see. Damn! They're both coming over here! Shit!"  
  
"No way!"  
  
"And he's looking at you!" Shango gave Mithy a look of death.  
  
"Really? Which one?"  
  
"The ten, you stupid thief!"  
  
"I'm not asking for any of this! Look at what you've started! Shango, what if he won't except no! I can't cheat on Maiwë! Damn you!"  
  
The boys head over, and Elfwine takes a glance at Shango before he say to Mithy, "Hey, do I know you? You look familiar."  
  
"Hi," Mithy gave him an obnoxious smile. "Is that the best pick-up line you've got? No, I don't know you. Let's get down to the chase. No, I won't dance with you."  
  
"But I will," said Shango. Mithy stepped on her foot. "Ow! That was mean! I AM dancing with him now!" She got up and took Elfwine's hand, leaving the other two there.  
  
Shango let her sexy toy take her to a secluded alcove. How romantic, she thought. Maybe he thinks I'll like more than he's ass.  
  
She spoke up, "I thought we were gonna dance."  
  
"Oh, well, the kind of dancing I like, you don't perform in public," He had a deep baritone voice that was quite pleasant to hear. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You should hide your lust better, m'lady."  
  
She whispered back, "You shouldn't hang out with gays." She licked his ear.  
  
"What are you saying?" He looked truly confused. "I don't think anyone I was hanging with was gay."  
  
"What about that guy that came over with you? He's gay, m'lord, sorry to say it."  
  
He laughed, "You need to check more than just appearances with that one. He wants girls to think he's gay. At least I hope that's why he wore that shirt. He could just have no fashion sense."  
  
"Well, how was I supposed to know that? Anyway, so I saw you looking at Mithy, my friend. Why did you go to her first? And with that awful line!"  
  
"I had to make sure you didn't have competition, my succubus."  
  
"Oh? So you think I'll just sleep with you?"  
  
"That's what you were advertising. Why not we finish this conversation in my room? I like it there, it has a nice bed and good floor rug if you're adventurous."  
  
She smiled and leaned against his firm chest, "I'm certainly in an adventurous mood." She ran her hand down his chest to his belt.  
  
He smiled, picked her off the ground, and carried her to his quarters.  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
Ok, I know Tolkien would scream if he heard those two, but I'm trying to go for slightly upbeat and well, it gets better soon, don't worry. And the summary will make sense in time. *sighs* The next chapter will be up sooner, I promise. Namaarie, Angainawen 


	3. Cut Thread

A/N-Hey guys! For those who have hung on to this sotory for months and months and months without any news stuff, I am sorry. Well, I'm back and for those who HAVE already read this chapter, I add some more to it as you can see. This is the first turning point in this story and was extremely hard for me to write. I actually got bored and worked on other things (meaning sequels). Enjoy

Angainawen

Mithfeniel passed through the gates of the lord's manor sadly; it was obvious she'd have to walk back home alone. Shango no doubt was screwing the blonde and that wasn't new. Again Mithy wondered why she even took the whore into her home in the first place. She sighed and wished she wasn't easily taken to pity. She remembered well the day her father came back from some trip through Dol Guldur; a slim teenage girl sleeping on his horse. The young elf had looked at the slightly short maiden and was intrigued by her shiny jet black hair and tan skin.

"Father, who is this?" she had asked.

"She's looks atleast somewhat Haradric," Legolas shrugged and picked the girl up. "I found her half-dead in Dagorlad. She hasn't woken since."

Mithfeniel helped lift the girl off the horse, noticing how emaciated she was. "Father, she's starved. We have to get her some food!"

"See to it that you do," Legolas calmly dismounted , a grim look on his face. "I have word for Minas Tirith that speeds me away."

"What is it, Adar?" The girl's face had held that of foreboding. "What ill did you find in our homeland?"

The young prince shook his head sadly and sighed, "Nothing too damaging, Arasield. The woods just aren't ours anymore."

Mithfeniel cocked her head and keenly narrowed her eyes, "You are keeping something from me, Father. What did you find on that accursed mound?"

"Nothing, there was nothing there but ruins and spiders, Mithfeniel. Nothing there but the memories of Death." With that Legolas, former Prince of Mirkwood, went inside to grab provisions and then headed off for Minas Tirith to once again speak with King Elessar.

Meanwhile, Mithfeniel took the girl over to her room in the sheltered halls of Harfen, pondering over her father's cryptic words as she cleansed her. After awhile her patient awoke suddenly and tried to bolt from the bed, though the Elven healer held her firmly down. There was complete fear in the girl's amber gold eyes when she hissed in clear though accented Westron, "Let me go!"

The elf complied though gave her a stern look, shifting into a more human nature, "I will, if you remain here. You are badly hurt and should not strain yourself."

The newcomer stared Mithfeniel back with an icier glare, "I need not some child to tend me. I can make it on my own, thank you!" With that she tried to get up, yet with a look Mithfeniel laid her back down.

"You need rest and water," she said, this time soothingly. "My father found you in the wastelands near death. I was told to help you regain your strength."

The other sighed and relaxed, though then turned back to Mithfeniel saying sternly, "Where am I? If I am back at the city, slay me now before the guards find me."

The elder of the two looked at her strangely, "What city do you speak of?"

The name the girl gave was none familiar to Mithy and sounded like a far different language than the ones she knew. "You are in the Elven settlement of Harfen, which is nestled within the fair trees of Ithilien. You are far from the guards that seek you." With that she gently stroked the girl's cheek to calm her. "Do not fear; you are safe with me."

"Who are you savior, my deliverer from death?" At the title she bestowed the young refugee switched to her true tongue, though Mithfeniel knew it was not Haradric.

"I am Mithfeniel, Daughter of Legolas, Lord of Harfen. It was he who found you in the wasteland and then put you in my care."

"My birth-name is Shango, I know not my father." With that the young girl bowed her head. "Therefore I have no surname at all."

"What was your mother's name?" Mithfeniel reassuringly whispered. "That can be your surname."

Again Shango shook her head, "I do not remember. My mother's husband sold me when I was very young."

"Sold you?"

Shango nodded vacantly, her mind succumbing to her past, "Aye, sold me. They were low on money and I wasn't welcomed in that home. My mother gave me this, though, to remember her by." She took off a small amber crystal that hung around her neck and handed it to Mithfeniel.

Again another wave of pity washed over Mithfeniel as she studied the trinket. It wasn't expensive looking at all, nor was it completely beautiful, until it caught the light. It glowed with such a warmth that the young elf had her breath taken away. "It's utterly beautiful."

"Keep it," Shango said. "It does me no good. It's not even worth one meal."

"Are you serious?" Mithfeniel asked, shocked. The mortal nodded, "Certainly. I was never loved in that home anyway."

Again the elf was shocked at Shango's treatment. She took the other's hand, "You are welcomed here, Shango. Do not doubt that. You can stay and call this your home if you wish."

"I would like that very much," The 17 year old said with a weak smile. "I feel here a peace I have never felt in my life, Mithy."

Mithfeniel smiled at the nickname, understanding that some humans didn't like saying huge mouthfuls. "I am glad you feel that peace, Shango…" The young elf made a weird face at the very odd name, causing the one in bed laugh.

"You can find me another name if you wish it, Mithy. I can tell by your sweet voice that you tongue is far more elegant than mine." With that the tired girl closed her eyes and snuggled against the soft linens and silks that the elves furnish their beds.

Mithy smiled as her new friend fell asleep, saying so softly in Westron, "Sleep well, Telella, my new sister. May your dreams be peaceful." Then she laid upon Shango's brow a soft kiss and after that exited the room.

The young elf once again smiled at the memory, being grateful for her closest friend. Before Shango, Mithy felt very alone in life. After that day she had a very faithful companion, and that made her feel far happier than she had since they moved down to Ithilien. Certainly Maiwë didn't make her feel cherished and loved. Oddly though, she gave Shango's treasure to him when he proposed as a sign of acceptance. He wore everywhere and no doubt was fingering it as the crystal laid against his heart. "I have to tell him," she whispered to herself. "I can't let him be lied to anymore."

The moon was full that solstice night, frost already forming on the ground. Being only half-Elven, Mithfeniel did slightly feel the biting chill of the winter night and hugged her cloak around her body. She once again wished that Shango was with her, or even the ever annoying companions of hers, the Sons of Elrond, who usually stayed at Harfen in between their hermitages. But they were either up north right now, or paying their sister a visit at Minas Tirith. Again, Mithfeniel sighed over the fact that she was completely and utterly alone.

She passed through lightly, though sadly, through the woods of Ithilien, along the hidden path to Harfen, the last permanent home of the elves. The ground was strewn with frozen leaves, making it stiff and hard walking. The half-human girl sighed, wishing she was more like her father's kin and rubbed her dainty yet numbing nose. Thankfully, her Elven blood kept her teeth from noisily chattering, a habit she had found annoying about humans. Her mind for some reason then wandered back to the party and the brunette boy she met hours before. He was different than most, reclusive even. He intrigued her….

Without looking where she was going Mithy tripped over a huge object in the path. She gracefully caught herself and turned to see the obstacle. Eyes wide, she leaned back against a tree, clasping a hand over her mouth. The thing she tripped over was a corpse.

The body was dark, slightly short, and thickly coated in armor. One long arm was sprawled out towards her traveled path; it's gnarled, clawed hand groping for a scimitar at Mithy's feet. Embedded in it's neck were three green arrows. Mithy recognized them as the same Maiwë and the rest of the guard used. Sudden fear crawled up her spine; this orc couldn't have been dead more than a few hours. And as every soldier said, orcs are usually not alone.

"Why do we have to live in Ithilien?" she muttered to herself. Ithilien, though it was the garden of Gondor, was still wild and fairly close to Mordor, where dark creatures still inhabited even after almost thirty years.

She then crept carefully along the trail, noticing the complete stillness of the woods. Again more chills came over her as she saw arrows protruding out of the young trees. It gave her another tingling sense along her spine. The trees were scared as well. Every step she took was so heavy, so loud to her ears that she thought any moment something would catch her. It was now, as the moon came out from behind the dark clouds that she found Harfen.

The gates were ruined, having been pried open by some force. Mithy saw the walls, black and red blood smeared against the light brown of the wood. Deep down inside her, she felt like retching. Bodies were littered on the ground, ten orcs and four guards. For the first time that night she thought of her betrothed and again she trembled. Reluctantly, as every step churned her stomach, she crossed other to the dead.

First was Anglos, his unseeing eyes staring the sky. Anglos was one of her father's countless friends. She remembered that he was a captain, and had fought in battles since the Second Age. She gently closed his grey eyes and kissed the pale brow, whispering a farewell and hoping that he'll find peace with Mandos.

Alittle while off was another guard, crumpled against a tree. The long silky hair was now matted from where blood coated it, its glowing luster completely gone. Eyes closed in slight pain, the soldier died after being impaled by a spear that still trapped him against the tree. Mithy immediately recognized the firm, angled chin and fell to her knees. Her worst fears were founded.

So slowly she crept next to the now beautiful elf, feeling so much guilt for having scorned this kind generous friend. He had loved her, yet she was too cold to return it. Now it was too late. Mithy caressed his pale cheek, and leaned against his shoulder, tearing up. Only once before had she done this, only when she was a child. Without knowing why, she softly sang to him, like he would to her, only now sobs interrupted the tune. She then softly kissed him and said one final prayer, wanting to die beside him. Her eyes slowly closed, her body paled as well. In her mind she felt a loving hand wrap around her own and her soft voice whispered, "Take me with you, I will love you while we dance among the stars…"

Maiwë smiled at her kindly, sadly and shook his head. "No," he said. "You have other paths to follow. They took your jewel, love. Bring it back to place on my grave. Then you will be free of me."

"I don't want to be free anymore. I want to love you and be beside you."

Maiwë sighed and kissed her brow, "I love you, but you need to move on. Look out for youself, Mithy." She furrowed her brow at his words as he faded away. Immediately afterwards she was dragged to her feet.

Snapping awake she stared at the horrible creature lifting her by the throat into the air. His face was cruel, a gruesome smile on his face. "Pretty pet wished to die?" He growled in his own tongue, unsheathing his sword. "Well, I grant that wish." He moved to stab her.

Reflexively she kicked her feet up into his middle, causing him to drop her. Then she began to run, behind her the orc was cursing aloud as he died. The beast stabbed himself with his own blade. She kept on running.

* * *

Mithy ran blindly through the woods, tears streaming, not caring where she was going. He was dead. Maiwë, her fiancé, was dead. She should've never gone, she should've stayed home with him. But what could she do? He was dead the instant they attacked. She would've just gotten killed too.

Suddenly she passed someone and he put out his arm to stop her. "M'lady!" His hand caught her off-guard and struck her cross the chest. She stopped as the blow winded her and skidded onto the forest floor. The man, whoever he was, came over to her. "M'lady are you ok?"

Still gasping slighting she looked up at him. It was the guy she talked to, the gay one.

He laughed, "I'm not gay, stop looking at me like that." He offered his hand and helped her to her feet. "You ok? You must've been going awfully fast for my arm to wind you."

"You shouldn't have stuck it out in the first place!" Mithy had no time for this guy. She pushed him aside and started to walk off, but immediately felt his hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong? You looked distressed," he asked an honest question, but his hand shouldn't be on her at all. She erupted.

"Get your filthy human hand off me!" she tugged some more to get free but he wouldn't let go.

"Answer me, and I'll let you go. A lady like you shouldn't be wandering the woods alone at night. Please, I only want to help."

"Then let go!" She tried again, but as soon as she got free he grabbed her other arm and turned her so she faced him, taking her other arm in the process.

"No, you're hurt. It's obvious, and I'm not one who lets a wounded bird die." He looked her in the eye and said quietly, "I won't hurt you if you stop flailing."

Mithy gave him a look of disgust and stood still. "Now will you let go of me?"

He smiled at her, she was beautiful, even in tears. She looked natural. "Not till you answer my question. What's wrong?" He loosened his grip on her arms.

"Fine, my home has been destroyed, ok? Everyone's gone except for the dead. Now let go!" She was too mad at this jerk right now, or else she would've cried.

He did as she said and backed up a few paces. "Ok, but you might want to rest some before you bleed to death or die of grief.."

She narrowed her eyes, making them turn burnt red. Who did he think he was, to act as though they were good friends! She hardly knew him! "No!"

"Are you sure?" he, for some dumb reason, was perfectly calm. As though he didn't care either way if she went with him. "I promise I won't lay a hand on you again unless you want me to. And only then to clean those scrapes."

She looked at him, and started to relax, her eyes returning to their natural brown. He _was_ trying very hard not to look like he wanted her in bed. She sighed, "Fine, why not?"

He smiled again at her and gestured for her to follow him. "So, you're Fenny, right? I'm sorry, I never was good with names."

"Yeah, you're right. Though your name seems to be replaced with Fucker."

He laughed, "I'm not trying to harm you! But if you really want to call me that, I'm sure at some point in my life I deserved that title."

"I'm sure you did."

They walked some in silence and came to a wooden lodge. "After you, m'lady." He opened the door for her and they heard a loud screech. "Damn it, Gondor! You're supposed to be asleep! Come in, the bird doesn't bite."

Fenny stepped in slowly, taking in the entire place. It was built like a typical one room cottage, though stuffed like a library. The walls were covered with waist high bookshelves, over-stuffed, and thousands of drawings of trees, people, birds, horses, and architecture. There was a small desk in center of the room next to a cot. The only spot on the wall where their wasn't drawings was occupied by a cabinet full of dishes, jars, rags, and plants. At the foot of the cot was a huge chest overflowing with shirt sleeves and belts. There were also piles of books lying in the middle of the floor, each having a folded slip of paper saying the date for when they were due and from which library they came from. She had never seen so many books in one room in her life!

"Why are you so shocked? Haven't you been in a library before?" he said from a corner of the room. He was tending to a bird, about as big as an average dog, and giving it some kind of meat.

"Yes, but this isn't a library. It's a rat's nest!"

"A pack rat's nest," he corrected her, giving the bird the last of the meat. "That's enough, boy. You should've been asleep anyway." He walked over to the desk and placed his hands in a basin, washing them. "So, Fenny, make yourself at home. There's a chair here and the bed, umm, you might find enough space on the floor. Sorry, I'm not used to company." He dried his hands on a rag next to the basin and waited for her to reply.

"It's ok," she finally said. She didn't know why she hadn't answered him till then. Maybe she was still in shock, or was tired. What ever the reason, it was no excuse for the plain answer she gave him. He had a sense of humor (something Maiwë never had grasped), a way with words, and was truly different than what she thought of men. He was quite likable in this state.

They stood some in silence, and then Fenny finally sat down on the cot. It was springy. She bounced a little for fun. Elboron smiled, being reminded of his sister. He missed her, and never really got a chance to talk to her at the feast. Damn me, he thought. He sighed and went over to the cabinet, retrieving a pitcher, bowl, and towel. "Here, this broth will keep your cuts from getting infected, as well as prevent them from scarring your skin." He sat down next to her. "May I? I'm a man of my word, and I won't touch you unless you permit me to."

She smiled at him, realizing that he might be the friend she needed right now. She nodded and held out her arm.

Elboron returned her smile and poured the broth in the bowl. He then soaked the rag in the clear liquid and dabbed her shoulder, gently. He looked at her cream colored skin, trying not to show its effect on him. He decided that the best way to distract himself was to talk. "So, is Fenny your real name? Or one you like to go by." It was a lame subject but he had to think of something.

"No, it's a nickname I guess. You're the first person to call me it."

"Well, it was the only name you gave me." He soaked the rag again in the basin, and moved on to her other arm. "What is your real name, may I ask?"

"Mithfeniel, though no one calls me that unless they're trying to be formal. I go by Mithy at home." She looked at him, his calm expression and sapphire eyes, all of it. Even his after-shave, she stared at.

"What should I call you by, if you don't like Fenny?" He finished her arm and stopped. He had only permission for her arms, that's all. No matter how tempting it might be, he'd have to wait till she gave him permission before he moved on.

"Oh I like Fenny! It's sweet and human." She leaned a little closer to him. "Call me what you wish."

He smiled. "Ok, Fenny. Now, you gave me only your arm, but there are some other scrapes on you where I shouldn't really touch unless asked."

"Oh! Go ahead, I guess I trust you now."

He looked at her, not getting that she'd actually let him touch her anywhere as long as it was with intention to heal her. This girl was either really out of it or dumb. He could do anything to her and she wouldn't care. He re-soaked the rag and gently cleaned her face. "You know, Fenny. My friend said that you were glancing at me during the party. Why?"

"Oh, well, you were just sitting there, not talking. It was different." She looked up at the ceiling. "It caught my eye."

He smiled at her, "well what if I had a reason to be unnoticed and you ruined it?"

"Oh, did I? I'm sorry." She looked at him sincerely, making him uncomfortable. He put down the rag and stood up off the bed.

"Well, I think you're ready to move on, if you want." He placed his supplies back into the cabinet and went to the door to pour the broth outside. By his gestures, the brunette looked as though he wished her to leave.

"Oh! So you're showing me to the door? That's really nice!" She got up and stomped off past him, furious and hurt.

Without knowing why he stopped her again. "I wasn't kicking you out."

"Oh really? What were you doing?" She turned towards him and her anger abated as she saw his sad face.

"I was just going to dump out the broth, m'lady."

She laughed, "Oh! I'm sorry! How stupid of me!" She moved out of the way so he could toss the mess into the bushes. As he did so, she got to notice that this seemingly lank guy had a little muscle, not like his cousin or even Maiwë, but some. He looked quite attractive.

He sensed her thoughts and blushed, knowing that a lady had never thought such things about him in six years, and even then he was cute, not hot. She's quite attractive too, he thought. He pushed his thoughts out of his mind and looked into the night. "It's cold out. I'm probably gonna freeze my ass off again."

I hope not that ass, she thought. "I'm sorry, I'd offer you somewhere warmer, for all your trouble, but I don't have a place to stay."

"Oh no big deal. My ass will be fine."

She laughed, very melodically, "You're proud of your behind, aren't you?"

"Why shouldn't I? It's put up with heavy beatings from friends, family, and enemies. Your ass is as important as your toes, Fenny."

"Really? I never thought of that before. But I can see why. I guess I take my butt for granted."

You shouldn't take that butt for granted, he thought. "So, you don't have somewhere to stay? I can pull some strings and you can stay at my parents' hall. Ok?"

"What about you? Besides, I have to find my friend, Shango. She was the girl I was talking to at the party."

"She's probably having sex, knowing my cousin."

"Yeah, she's like that too. Which inn is he staying at?"

"Oh, he's staying at my parents' tonight. I can take you there."

"Ok," Fenny walked out into the dark forest. She started to shiver, finally calm enough to notice the cold. "You're right. It is cold out here."

"Oh, I should've realized that you'd be cold. Here," he tossed her a jacket that he found in his trunk. "That might keep you warm, though it might be big on you. I have broad shoulders."

"I know." She put on the jacket, and indeed the sleeves were huge. But it kept her warm.

They strode to the Northern Gate and came up to the guards. Elboron held out his hand and showed them a silver ring with a white tree overlapping a crescent moon, the seal of Ithilien. The guards then let the two pass without a word.

"You can just walk in?" Fenny looked at him confused. "That's impossible at this time of night."

"Well, you just saw it happen," he smiled at her. "Besides, I'm in charge right now. My father's off at Minas Tirith."

"Your father's Lord Faramir?"

He nodded. "Yes, though it's not like I don't look like him!" He rubbed his nose.

Fenny smiled and looked at him. "I don't know your father all that well; I'm always away when my father went to meetings and such. But I've heard he's very noble, and my father's a good friend of his."

"Who's your father?"

"Lord Legolas."

Elboron stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"My father's Lord Legolas of Harfen."

"Are you serious? But that would make you elven."

"Catch on quick, don't you?" She started to walk again.

Elboron blinked then followed her. He was talking to an elf and not just any elf but a princess elf. He swallowed. "I had no idea, m'lady."

She sighed and spoke softly: "I am only half-elven. My mother was mortal like you."

"Who was your mother?"

"Oh, just a woman from Dale. She died a long time ago."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. I never knew her and it isn't your fault."

"How old are you?" he asked, catching her hand.

She paused and he could feel the trembling in her hand. "As old as Elros when he died."

Elboron's eyes once again widened, but he didn't let go of her hand. "Does that mean you will die soon?"

She laughed and it was pleasing to hear. "No," she said and drew slightly closer to him. "I am allowed to choose my fate just like him. So far I wish to choose immortality." Though with you that might change, she thought. She could see him swallow, his lips slightly parted, at her words. Now it was his turn to slightly tremble.

"It must be so wonderful," he said "to live forever. I am sure you will see many things."

She smiled, though it was weak. "I probably will. Where's your cousin's room?"

"Straight ahead," he replied and let go of her hand. They kept walking , yet neither of them said a word till they reached the room.

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A/N- My extreme apologies for not putting this up sooner. It's been a hard section to write for me, yet finally I've plowed through it. I'll say this now, I've already written half of the story, before I even started posting, and now I'm filling in all the holes. This was one of them. The next chapter should be up real soon, I just have to do some touch-up's on it. I hope this wasn't thick reading…. I try to make sure it isn't.

Namaarie,

Angainawen


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